Die with me Jimmy
by OneInFiveBillion
Summary: “How are you going to live without me?” House asked grimacing as his bad leg hit the side railing of the hospital bed as he turned over to face his best friend. HW Friendship Fourth in the 'Dieing Conversation' series


**Authors Note: **Took me two nights to write. And I'm still not happy with it. But oh well. You be the judge.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

"How are you going to live without me?" House asked grimacing as his bad leg hit the side railing of the hospital bed as he turned over to face his best friend.

James Wilson slumped in the chair which he had occupied since his friend had been admitted 72 hours ago. Resting his elbows on his knees he cupped his hands and let his head fall into them, sighing he shook his head and looked up into a familiar but very different face.

House's eyes, which were once cerulean blue were now a dull shade of grey, pain clouding them. His skin lacked its usual healthy tan and now took on a white colour, with a blue-ish tint to it, making him look, in Wilson's opinion, like death warmed up. His lips were cracked and dry, although not as pale as the rest of him they still held none of the colour they used to. He was ill. He was dieing, and it was his all own damned fault.

"I don't know," he muttered, hating himself for how weak his voice sounded, even to his own ears.

"Well," House started, still moving around on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position, one that didn't hurt his leg or his side, where he had had an operation the day before, in hopes that it would get rid of the cancer in his lung. "You're going to have to think of something quick then aren't ya."

Wilson couldn't understand how House could be so calm about it, he was on the verge of death and he acted as if it were the easiest thing ever, nothing at all to worry about.

"Shut up House, don't talk like that." He wanted to yell at him, scream at him, tell him to feel some damn emotion, tell him it was okay to be angry, to be scared. That he was there for him to lean on…

But he didn't. He wouldn't.

House, seemingly not hearing a word that Wilson had said kept on with his current train of thought, "I mean I don't have long and that means you'll be without me," he sighed, "all alone again, just like another one of your divorces, except this time I wont be there, it wont be my couch you sleep on, my breakfast you cook, my lunch you pay for, my beer you drink."

"Stop it House," Wilson said softly, stretching his hand out to grab onto his friends', hoping that would pull House out of his seemingly one-sided conversation.

"You'll be the one planning my funeral of course, no one else I trust with it. Ooh, maybe Cuddles will show off the twins as a final farewell." He stopped to think for a moment, paying no attention to the stricken face of the man sitting beside him. "It better be true what they say about heaven, I better be able to see all."

"House, please." Wilson was on the verge of crying, he was about to lose his best friend and all that he could hear was his afore mentioned friend calmly talking about his own funeral, albeit more to himself than to Wilson.

"But it's not like you to think very far ahead, is it? With your patients it's always '_your chemo is today mrs brown, you'll be released tomorrow.' _Never anything like _'you're going to die in about a year,' _or _'it's going to be a painful few months.'_ Live for today you say, focus on the present, forget about the past." House paused, shifting slightly to sink further back into the bed, letting the sheets envelope his think, sickly form. "See that, that is why your marriages didn't work. It was all about how you loved them now, how you liked being laid now, you never thought about how it was going to be living with them 24/7 for the rest of your life…or until your divorce came through." He finished, letting out a shaky breath as he turned his cold eyes on his friend.

"That's enough House, it's all uncalled for." Wilson was becoming more and more distressed every time House opened his mouth.

It wasn't unusual for him to be like this, to snark at everything thing about him, to continually point out what he'd done wrong in his life, or that he cared too much. But he was dieing, most probably going to be gone within the next hour or so and all he could do was be his usual bastard self while his best friend broke down and dreaded the life he would have once it was all over.

"And now James," House continued, completely ignoring Wilson, "you tell me that you haven't even thought about what you're going to do once little ol' me is gone. You won't last a month."

Wilson stood abruptly, dropping House's hand. He stood so fast that the chair he had previously occupied tipped backwards and hit the floor with a resounding thud.

Breaking the thick tension in the room Wilson moved closer to the cripple lying in the bed. "Shut up House, just shut up!" He ground out, clenching his teeth together to stop himself from yelling and disturbing anyone outside.

"For one minute of your miserable life, that thanks to your drug habit is about to end, would you stop being such a bastard. Stop thinking of ways to make yourself feel better or if you must find a different way." He grew quiet for a second, watching as something akin to guilt flashed through House's eyes, leaving as fast as it had come.

But he continued, not caring for one second the effect he was having on his 'friend'.

"You're about to die." He stated, his voice rising slightly, "And you may not care, but I certainly do. So stop voicing what you hate about me, stop criticising me and just let me bloody care. Stop trying to push me away god dam it!" He looked down once more at the man and turned away, getting ready to leave the room, and thus its occupant.

House lay there silently, a regretful expression clinging to his features. His pale skin looked even whiter against Wilson's as he reached out his hand and wrapped it around Wilson's wrist, making the Oncologist turn back around, effectively stopping his departure.

"You want to know why I'm doing it, why I keep saying these things?" He asked softly, his voice catching as he tried to breathe steadily.

Wilson's eyes slipped closed in relief, he didn't want to leave, and instead of pushing him away like he normally did, House was giving him a reason to stay.

"I keep saying these things because maybe if I keep saying them enough I'll begin to believe them and I'll start forgetting about how much I'm going to miss you and how much I regret doing what I did to cause this." His chest rose and fell heavily as he tried to catch his breath; he had used up all of his energy in his rants and was now feeling the effect of it. He tried to raise his free hand to brush the hair away from his forehead but found that he couldn't even lift it.

Sinking back into his chair Wilson once again let out a sigh, this time one filled with regret and guilt, guilt for making this about him when it really was all about House, regret for yelling at his best friend like he did.

""I'm sorry." He said quietly, moving his arm around until House could latch onto his hand, "I'm so sorry." Tears welled in his eyes as he moved closer to the bed and rested his head beside his friend, getting as close to him as possible without causing him any discomfort.

House just lay there silently, not knowing what to say, not understanding why he was on the receiving end of an apology. It might have been fair that he was dieing…addictions did have their consequences, but it was in no way fair to be putting Wilson through so much pain. He had never intended that to happen, he hadn't even realised just how much he meant to the Oncologist.

"God Greg, I don't know what I'm going to do; I'm going to miss you so much." Wilson sobbed, his salty tears falling to the sheets resting beneath his head.

He raised his head to look at his friend when he received no reply, worried that his time had come already.

Watching his friend struggle to breathe, finding it harder and harder to even inhale without any pain, or loss of energy, he realised that his friend wasn't going to last more than another few minutes.

"Don't go Greg, please; I don't know what I'm going to do. Please don't go." He had never sounded so desperate in all his life, in reality he had never been this desperate before, not to save his marriages, not to save a patient, never.

"Die with me Jimmy." House murmured, letting his eyes slip shut as he took his final breath.

"I am Greg, believe me, I am." Wilson whispered, tears still clogging his vision as his world as he knew it was shattered with a single flat line.

**End.**


End file.
